Waltz For The Moon
by WickedSong
Summary: "For a moment he's so stunned that he messes up – and if he's going to be a spy then he really should know this stuff. He knocks into her and blames her for it too. Who impulsively drags a guy they just met to dance?"


**Waltz For The Moon,**

**Written by WickedSong.**

**Note: This is based off a scene from one of my favourite video games, Final Fantasy VIII. (I know, I'm a complete dork and this is pretty dumb; you don't have to tell me twice). I'll post a link on my profile page so you can reference it if you wish. Failing that you can look up the piece of music called Waltz For The Moon (my title is _so_ original), because it's deliriously catchy. Also, I'm not _saying_ SHIELD holds a ball for those who graduate but if they did it would _totally_ be like this.**

* * *

Working for HYDRA within the shadows of SHIELD isn't easy. Grant Ward contemplates this as he leans against the pillar; receiving a glass of champagne from a waitress and watching the world around him unfold.

John told him to not get attached – and he's good at that. Attachments are weakness – and the taste of the liquor pushes down the memory of Buddy before it fully forms. Blending in is the real trick. He wasn't very good at that at first.

But he made it through the rigorous trials of the SHIELD Operations Academy – twenty-three and ready to face the world. Life inside SHIELD was different from what John had prepared him for in the wilderness but that time taught him every lesson and skill he'd ever had to know.

And now there's a ball. Held every year – to give the idea that an Academy training spies has a sense of decorum. Ward remembers snorting at the idea. But John had insisted.

If he didn't go it wouldn't be a big deal but John thought it'd be good though. It would avoid any questions. All he really had to do was rent a tux, show up, stand around for a few hours, and then leave. No one would expect him to socialise, they would just expect him to be there.

He sees her from across the room and for a moment he thinks of those old-time Hollywood movies that he'd watch at Gramsy's house. She's looking at the ceiling – through the glass window to the stars above. When he looks to see what's grabbed her attention, he finds one shooting through the sky.

_Make a wish._

He shakes his head because wishes on stars are for children and fairytales. About to turn his attention back to his drink, he catches her looking over at him. This girl – with a knowing grin, and a finger pointed up in the air as if she's just had an idea.

_What do you want_, is what he's asking when he tilts his head in her direction. Maybe she's not even looking at him.

* * *

"You're the best looking guy here," is the first thing she says to him.

The first thing he wants to ask her is if she even goes here. He's never seen her around before – and he has this gut feeling that he'd remember if he had. He shrugs impassively at her comment. She doesn't mean it.

"Hmm," she says, leaning back, folding her arms. He looks down, and she crouches ever so slightly to get a better look at his face. "I was wondering if you wanted to dance with me." She stands up straighter now. "But I think you're one of those guys who'll only dance with someone he likes."

She looks at him as if she expects him to answer, and when he doesn't she only takes a step closer.

"You're going to like me, you're going to like me," she tells him, over and over, nervously chattering away.

_If you keep doing that, I won't_, he thinks, but there's something oddly contagious about her. About the way she's talking to some stranger standing by a pillar at a dance he's not even sure she should be able to attend. She looks younger than him – maybe three or four years difference – and she's shorter than he is – John says he basically became a tree overnight – but she holds her own against him.

She takes the champagne from his hand without him even registering it before she pulls his hand along – onto the ballroom floor.

* * *

For a moment he's so stunned that he messes up – and if he's going to be a spy then he really should know this stuff. He knocks into her and blames her for it too.

Who impulsively drags a guy they just met to dance?

But she refuses to give up on him – even when he throws his hands up and almost leaves the floor. He's almost gone too, but then he feels her hand on his. He turns around, meets this mysterious girl's gaze and is she smiling at him? It makes him feel a little light-headed (he must be coming down with something) and this time he lets himself get dragged back into it.

She gets his hands in place, one on her waist, as she places hers on his shoulder. She takes his hand in hers and when the music starts up, off they go again. He's still terrible, at least by SHIELD standards. Dancing is something the Academy teaches – it's a valuable tool in getting close to certain targets – but he never quite got the hang of it.

She seems to know most of the steps but he's still sure he's never seen her around before. He's getting the hang of it, and is about to ask her as much, when they bump into another couple on the floor. He's quickly goes to apologise when she makes a slight hissing noise, shooing the couple away, before looking back at him, and smiling.

From there most of what he learned seems to come back to him. He finds a simple joy in the smile on her face when they twist and sway along to the music. As he twirls her in and out, in and out – this time without knocking anyone over - he lets her carefree laugh wash over him.

All thoughts of SHIELD, of HYDRA, of how much he _didn't_ want to be here tonight are forgotten and he's _happy? _As the last bars of the music swell and then fade, he pulls her closer into his arms. Fireworks shoot up overhead. She looks up in wonder and he finds more peace in her expression than in the colours that light up the night sky.

Others continue to dance around them but they stay trapped in this moment, until she appears to see someone from across the room.

"See you around, Robot," she teases affectionately, as she disentangles herself from him. There's a part of him that's reluctant to let her go; to let this moment pass so quickly, but he does so.

He lets her walk away without a single word and he realises he never told her his name (that's a good thing, isn't it?). He never even learned hers.

It's for the best, he tells himself, as he backs away from the dance floor and towards the exit, that light-headed feeling washing over him again.

It's all going to go up in flames one day, or so John keeps telling him. It's good not to get attached.


End file.
